


Tangled in a Flash

by areyoucoldflash (hellosterek)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, Captivity, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Murder, M/M, Tangled AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-30 03:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10152893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterek/pseuds/areyoucoldflash
Summary: Leonard Snart was never interested in love or relationships. Spending the majority of his life on the run in a kingdom that hates him, he has very little time to actually care about such things.Barry Allen, on the other hand, has much time on his hands as he sits at the top of the tower Harrison Wells has built for him. He longs to be on the outside, to see the world beyond his painted walls.When Leonard and Barry’s worlds collide, they both begin to learn new things about themselves. Leonard learns that maybe there is room in his life for the frivolity of love. And Barry…well, Barry learns that there’s a lot more to life than what he’s seen so far.





	1. Mother Gothel - AKA Harrison Wells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mockingbird_22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbird_22/gifts).



> Started as a [prompt on Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com/tagged/tangled-in-a-flash) and turned into a fic with a mind of its own. Hope you enjoy my interpretation of the classic tale! :)

Leonard Snart gazes upwards, watching lanterns float into the sky, serving as small beacons of light in the darkness.

 

“All at once, everything is different,” he mutters quietly, smiling to himself.

 

Feeling a hand tug at his, he turns his attention to his son, whose toffee colored curls fall into his eyes as he jumps around excitedly.

 

“The lanterns!” he cries. His blue eyes, so full of a six-year-old’s wonder, go back and forth between the sky and his father. “They’re back!”

 

Len chuckles, amused by the child’s enthusiasm over something that happens every year. He brushes the boy’s hair from his face and nods. “Of course, Michael. It’s tradition.”

 

Michael scrunches his nose. “What’s a tradition?”

 

Len’s smile widens and he pulls his son into his lap. “Something we do that’s been passed on for generations.”

 

“Like pizza night?” Michael questions, settling against his father’s chest.

 

Len laughs, holding him close. “Sort of.”

 

They fall into a silence, watching the lanterns float through the air.

 

“Papa?” Michael mutters.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How did the lantern tradition start?”

 

Len’s smile returns and he pokes his son in the stomach. “I thought I’d already told you that one.”

 

Michael squirms and giggles. “I wanna hear it again.” He looks up at Len with wide, pleading eyes. “I wanna hear how you and daddy met.”

 

Len hums, fond of the story himself. Pressing a kiss to Michael’s forehead, Len settles back in his chair with a sigh. “I suppose I could tell it again.”

 

“Yay!” Michael cheers, turning in Len’s lap to face him.

 

Len pushes the curls out of his son’s face and glances toward the lantern-peppered sky. “It began twenty-six years ago, just before your daddy was born…”

 

❀❀❀

 

The story, as many have heard, begins with the sun. Now, there are many stories about the sun. Sunlight is a sign of new life each day and has been said to decrease mortality.

 

Years ago, on a day just like this one, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens. From this single drop of sunlight grew a magic, golden flower that had the ability to heal the sick and injured.

 

One man, in particular, had special need for such a flower.

 

Harrison Wells. He was a simple man with a daughter, a darling baby girl. Together, he and his wife planned to raise this darling baby girl in their cottage, just on the outskirts of Central. Now, as many know, Kings and Queens can only offer protection to their subjects. Land beyond their jurisdiction is out of their hands. So, when Harrison Wells ventured to Central Kingdom in request of protection, King Allen’s hands were tied.

 

“I’m sorry, we can’t help you,” Henry answered, gazing down at the raven-haired man from his throne.

 

“You don’t understand--” Harrison pleaded. “--without your help, my family will starve. The bandits...they’ll be back and they won’t stop until they’ve taken everything.”

 

Queen Nora laid a hand over her protruding stomach, knowing the lengths she’d go to protect her own growing family. She peered at her husband with a frown. “Henry, there must be something we can do.”

 

Henry closed his eyes and sighed. He regretted having to tell his wife no, that even though helping this man seemed like the right thing to do, they just couldn’t risk a war with Keystone.

 

He returned his attention to Harrison Wells, eyeing the man’s tattered black clothing and shrunken cheeks. It was likely that the man had been sacrificing himself for his wife and daughter, foregoing his own meals to be sure they were fed. “Have you spoken with King Rathaway about your troubles?”

 

“I have, sire,” Harrison shook his head. “He refuses to listen.”

 

Nora stared at her husband, pleading on the man’s behalf, and Henry sighed.

 

“The best we can do is send you away with a few provisions,” Henry stated regrettably. “You understand, I cannot send my men to protect you in another kingdom.”

 

“But sire--”

 

“I’m sorry,” Henry interrupted, holding up a hand. “It’s the most I can offer.” He glanced at the guards and motioned toward the man. “See to it that Harrison Wells receives provisions for his family before he leaves.”

 

Harrison shook his head, fighting against the guards’ hands. “What good will provisions do when the bandits will be back in a matter of days? They’ll take it all!”

 

Henry turned his head and closed his eyes, hating this part of his job.

 

“They’ll die!” Harrison shouted desperately. “My wife, _my daughter_! They’ll die!”

 

❀❀❀

 

“Did they die?” Michael gasps, squirming in anticipation.

 

Len notes his concerned frown and smiles softly. His son already knows how the story goes, but treats every retelling like it’s the first. “You remember when I told you that when you love someone, you do everything in your power to protect them?”

 

Michael nods, wide and innocent eyes searching his father’s.

 

“Well, when it’s not in your power to protect them, you always ask for help,” Len continues.

 

“But Harrison Wells did that,” Michael points out with a frown. “It didn’t work.”

 

Len nods, smoothing his son’s hair. “And sometimes, when that fails and if the cause is worthy enough...if there’s no other way, you fight.”

 

“Fight?” Michael squeaks nervously.

 

Len nods.

 

❀❀❀

  


Harrison Wells fought for his family.

 

“Please, have mercy,” he requested. “My daughter. I won’t be able to feed her if you take much else.”

 

The bandit glanced at the little girl in the wife’s arms. “Maybe you should work a little harder to feed your family, eh, Wellsy?”

 

Harrison scowled. “I do work hard! If it weren’t for you stealing--”

 

“Stealing?” the bandit challenged, stepping forward with a hard stare. “You’re in our territory, squeeb. You know the price.”

 

“This has been my family’s home for _decades_ ,” Harrison growled. “We won’t let you take it from us.”

 

The bandit stepped forward, pointed nose close to Harrison’s face. “You either pay your dues or you lose everything.”

 

“I have nothing left to spare,” Harrison stated angrily.

 

“Then it looks like I take everything you have left,” the bandit countered with a snarl.

 

“I’ll die before I let that happen,” Harrison spat, hand wrapping around the kitchen knife hidden in the back of his belt.

 

The bandit snorted, glancing at his crew. “That can be arranged. Right, boys?”

 

In one fluid motion, Harrison swung his arm around, swiping upwards with the knife. The edge of the blade caught the man in the cheek, startling him backwards a few steps.

 

“Tess, run!”

 

She ran, but she wasn’t fast enough. The bandits had already reacted, one knocking the knife from Harrison’s hand while two others pursued her and the baby.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Wellsy,” the bandit stated darkly when Harrison was forced to his knees before him. The bandit wiped blood from his cheek and spat, bearing his yellowing teeth. “You see, I was only going to take some food from you. But now?”

 

His crew dragged the struggling wife and wailing child forward, tears falling down their pale cheeks.

 

The bandit shook his head, nodding to his men. “Kill them both.”

 

“ _No_!”

 

❀❀❀

  


“No!” Michael screams, hands balling into angry fists. “Why?”

 

Len frowns, rubbing his son’s back. “Some men aren’t so nice, son.”

 

Michael purses his lips in thought. “Papa?”

 

“Yes, son?”

 

“What was the bandit’s name?”

 

Len hesitates. “Lewis Snart.”

 

Michael scowls and crosses his arms. “He’s mean.”

 

Len huffs a short, humorless laugh, gaze going toward the lanterns still floating in the sky. “He was.”

 

❀❀❀

 

Killing the wife and bringing the child with them, Lewis and his crew fled with all the man’s provisions.

 

Although Lewis took everything from Harrison, he did manage to leave him with one thing -- a deep wound in his right leg. The wound, so deep, left him limping across the land in search of help. Before long, he came upon the flower, glowing so brightly in the afternoon sunlight.

 

He’d heard of such flowers; their powers were legendary. Not only could they heal the sick and wounded, but they could also supply youth to those who craved it.

 

Falling to his knees beside the lily-shaped flower, Harrison touched his hands to its golden petals. He closed his eyes and sung quietly to himself,

 

_Flower gleam and glow,_

_Let your powers shine,_

_Make the clock reverse,_

_Bring back what once was mine,_

_What once was mine._

 

The flower’s petals glowed and pollen exploded in a puff of air. He breathed in the pollen, filling his lungs with the flower’s magic. The magic settled over him like a blanket and passed through his veins, healing and rejuvenating his body. The wound on his leg closed and healed, better than new.

 

Stronger, Harrison rose to his feet and examined himself, turning over his hands and inspecting his leg. He let out a sharp, surprised laugh before clamping a hand over his mouth. The flower, powerful and useful, was a highly sought after item and he knew he’d need it again one day. So, to keep its magic to himself, Harrison built a cover out of branches and leaves, vowing to return and sing to it every day in an effort to become stronger.

 

One day, he promised, he would get his revenge on Lewis Snart and his team of bandits.

 

One day, he would save his daughter.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Did he save her?” Michael asks from edge of the balcony, watching the last of the lanterns fade.

 

Len joins him, leaning against the marble railing and gazing out across the lands. “No.”

 

Michael gasps, looking heartbroken, and Len smiles softly, lifting him into his arms.

 

“He didn’t save her,” Len continues, touching his forehead to his son’s. “Because someone else did.”

 

Michael’s eyes widen and his smile brightens his face. “Who?”

 

“What are you two talking about?”

 

Len turns, his smile softening. “You, actually.”

 

Barry places a hand over his chest and feigns shock. “Me?”

 

“Well,” Len amends, passing Michael over to his husband. “Us, technically.”

 

“Oh?” Barry questions with a curious smile, glancing at their son.

 

Michael nods enthusiastically. “Papa was telling me the story of how you met.”

 

“Ah,” Barry laughs. “That one again.”

 

“He seems fond of that one,” Len agrees.

 

Barry hums, raising his eyebrows at Len as his eyes rake over him. “It _is_ a good story.”

 

Len smirks. “It is.”

 

Barry clears his throat, tearing his gaze from his husband. “Where were you in the story?”

 

“I was just about to tell him--” Len begins, but is interrupted by an excited and impatient Michael.

 

“Harrison Wells just found the flower, daddy! Can you tell me what happens next?”

 

Barry chuckles. “We’ll tell you as we get you ready for bed, how about that?”

 

Michael pouts, but nods reluctantly, and Barry and Len enter the castle to perform their nightly routine as fathers and son.

 

❀❀❀

 

A hop, skip, and a small river away from Harrison’s beloved flower, King Henry and his loving wife, Queen Nora, resided in their kingdom. The queen, only a few days away from having her baby, suddenly fell terribly ill. The Court Physician, Martin Stein, and his trusted assistant Carla Snow labored day and night to find a cure.

 

“I’m sorry, sire,” Martin began regretfully with a shake of his head. “I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do.”

 

“There has to be something, Martin!” Henry pleaded, gazing at his wife through the curtain drawn around her bed. “Anything!”

 

Martin frowned, following the man’s gaze. He considered something, twisting his hands together nervously. “There is...one thing...but it may be just a myth.”

 

“What? What is it?” Henry demanded.

 

Martin shook his head. “There’s been word of a flower with special healing capabilities. It’s said to heal any ailment known to man and even increase an individual’s lifespan. If it’s real--”

 

“Where does it grow?” Henry interrupted.

 

“I--that’s the thing, sire. No one knows. It could be anywhere.”

 

“Then we’ll search for it,” Henry vowed.

 

“It could take days or months, sire,” Martin stated. “Nora might not have that long.”

 

“Then I’ll put every man on the job,” Henry insisted. “And reward the first man that finds it. I swear to you, Martin, I won’t rest until we have this flower and my wife is healed.”

 

And search they did, for days, unending. Of course, Harrison had hidden the flower well, but one day, not well enough.

 

On the third day, a guard was examining the banks of the river and caught a golden light out of the corner of his eye. He cut through the surrounding brush and found the flower, left uncovered in Harrison’s haste to not be seen. The guard dug up the flower and returned to the castle, depositing the flower straight into the king’s hands.

 

Martin made an infusion out of the flower and helped the queen drink it. Within moments, the queen was healed and a mere few days later, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

 

❀❀❀

 

“My daddy!” Michael smiles proudly, cuddling deeper into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.

 

“That’s right, kiddo,” Barry grins, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. “That’s me.”

 

“What happens next?” Michael yawns, eyelids drooping drowsily.

 

Barry chuckles, exchanging a look with Len. “How about we continue the story some other time? I think it’s time for our little prince to get some rest.”

 

“Awwwwww,” Michael whines, but it’s quiet and only halfhearted.

 

“Sorry, son,” Len agrees, joining Barry’s side and kissing Michael on the head. “Your dad’s right. It’s past your bedtime.”

 

“Can--” Michael yawns. “--we continue tomorrow?”

 

“Sure, whatever you want, son,” Len concedes, squeezing Barry’s shoulder.

 

“‘Kay,” Michael sighs, turning over in his bed and closing his eyes. “G'night, daddy. G‘night, papa.”

 

Barry stands and moves toward the candle on his bedside table. “Goodnight, Michael.”

 

“We love you,” Len adds softly, smiling at Michael’s half-hearted grunt in reply as Barry blows out the light.

  
“To be continued,” Barry adds, exiting the room with Len at his side and closing the door behind them.


	2. Rapunzel - AKA Barry Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a few lines in this chapter that are taken straight from the movie. I'm sure you guys will recognize them when you see them, haha. They're some of my favorites and I couldn't resist. :)

The moment Michael awakes the next morning he jumps out of bed and runs excitedly into the dining hall. “Daddy! Papa!”

 

Barry and Len glance up from their breakfasts, raising their eyebrows.

 

“Michael, what’s wrong?” Barry questions, but he's holding back a smile.

 

Len’s lips twitch and he covers a laugh with his hand. “Yeah, son, where’s the fire?”

 

“You didn’t finish the story!” Michael explains, plopping down into a chair and looking at them expectantly.

 

“I thought I heard an elephant run through here,” the footman Ronnie Raymond teases, placing Michael’s breakfast on the table.

 

Michael pouts. “But I wanna hear more of the story!”

 

Len and Barry exchange smiles. 

 

“Tell you what,” Barry begins. “Why don’t you eat your breakfast and we'll tell you more?”

 

Michael nods enthusiastically, eagerly pulling his plate toward him and digging into his eggs and bacon. He stares at his parents as he eats, impatiently waiting for one of them to speak.

 

Len chuckles, cutting into his steak. “Careful, son. Wouldn’t want to choke.”

 

Michael pauses mid-bite before eating at a much slower pace.

 

Len nods, glancing at his husband. “Would you like to continue?”

 

Barry shrugs. “The next part  _ is _ about me.” He takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat. “As you know, I was just a baby when Harrison came for me.”

 

❀❀❀

 

When Barry Allen was born, he had beautiful blond locks of hair. The hair was so beautiful and fine that his parents didn’t dare cut it. It grew down to his shoulders and was so bright that you could see it at all times, even in the dark.

 

Born with the flower’s magic running through his veins, Barry’s hair held the same healing powers as the flower.

 

“It’s really a miracle,” Martin Stein explained, running his hands over the glowing locks as baby Barry cooed to a tune that was quite his own.

 

A blast of golden light burst into the air and gasps were heard throughout the room as the wrinkles on the old physician’s face smoothed. Martin touched a hand to his face and turned to Henry and Nora. “The hair -- it’s magic!”

 

Nora smiled, lifting her child into her arms. “What a gift you are, little one.”

 

Henry, however, looked at his son in something akin to fear. “This mustn't leave this room.” He gazed around at his most trusted men. “No one can know this secret. We must keep Barry safe.”

 

Despite their best efforts to keep Barry's secret, one man did find out -- had already had his suspicions before they were confirmed by the rumors traveling across the land.

 

Without the healing powers of the flower, Harrison's leg was weakening and the wound was returning. One night, when all were asleep, he went to the castle to take back what was his, the one thing that had saved him when not even the benevolent king or queen would help.

 

“Flower gleam and glow,” Harrison sang softly, sneaking in through the unlocked window and standing over the prince’s bassinet. “Let your powers shine. Let the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.”

 

Harrison cut off a piece of Barry’s hair, but when the hair fell into his hand, it shriveled and turned brown. He gasped, gazing at the patch of hair left on the boy’s head and watching as it, too, turned brown.

 

Hearing the king stir in his bed, Harrison panicked and snatched the baby out of its cradle, moving toward the window. The baby wailed and the parents were roused from their sleep.

 

“Guards!” Henry yelled, but by the time the guards arrived and Henry reacted, Harrison was already out the window with the baby clutched to his chest. Henry feared they’d never see his beloved son again.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Did they ever find you, Daddy?” Michael questions, slurping his chocolate milk through a straw.

 

“No,” Barry glances slyly at Len. “Someone else did.”

 

Len snorts. “Yeah, but not on purpose.”

 

“No, you were just running from the palace guards,” Barry laughs.

 

“Why were you running, Papa?”

 

“Yeah, why were you running, Leonard?” Barry echoes, smile turning smug. He rests his chin on his hand, looking forward to seeing Len talk himself out of this one.

 

Len narrows his eyes at Barry. “I’d much rather hear about what happened after Harrison took you, Bartholomew.”

 

Michael turns to Barry with wide eyes. “Yeah! What happened?”

 

Barry glowers at Len, but he's only half-serious. “Well, it’s not a very interesting story…”

 

“I don’t know,” Len starts, grinning triumphantly and whispering conspiratorially to Michael, “Did you know that when I met your dad, his hair was over sixty feet long?”

 

Michael gasps, turning to his dad with wide eyes. “ _ Sixty feet _ ?”

 

Barry grimaces and Len nods, “Oh, yes. Harrison didn’t let him cut it.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because all the magic would be gone.”

 

❀❀❀

 

As Barry’s hair continued to grow, so did his urge to see the world. The only problem with him seeing the world was that Harrison had built him a tower and had forbidden him from leaving.

 

“The world is too dangerous,” Harrison explained when Barry was eight. He brushed Barry’s hair while Barry sang, the two of them sitting in front of the fireplace.

 

"But I want to go outside," Barry had pouted.

 

"I'm sorry, kiddo," Harrison sighed, continuing to brush his hair. "The world is a treacherous, awful place. People lie, steal, and hurt one another. I would never want anything like that to happen to you."

 

Barry had sighed, but inevitably understood. Harrison was just trying to protect him. He was, after all, only a child.

 

Over the years, Barry made due with the tower. Per Harrison’s requests, Barry cooked and cleaned throughout the day. Whenever he wasn’t cooking and cleaning, he was doing any activities he could think of that didn’t involve him going outside. He sang, he read, he wrote in a journal, he made up stories, he knit Harrison sweaters and blankets, painted the walls, ran circles throughout the tower, washed and brushed his hair, swung from the support beams, and danced around with his pet chameleon, Cisco.

 

There were only so many activities that could fill up his time, though, and he often found himself getting bored. During these moments, his thoughts would gravitate back to the lights -- the ones that floated into the sky around the same time each year. 

 

Every year, Barry sat at his window, watching them. He didn’t know why, but he felt drawn to them, like they were somehow meant for him. He wanted to be closer, to see them in person, but Harrison’s answer was always the same.

 

It was too dangerous.

 

He asked Harrison what they were once, but he told Barry they were stars. That didn’t make sense though. Barry had tracked the stars, had watched them over the years and had charted them. They didn’t move like the lights did. They remained constant except for the occasional meteor and falling star, but even those fell  _ down _ , not  _ up _ .

 

One evening, he sat staring at the countdown on his wall. Three days were left until the lights would float up into the sky. Three days were left until he turned eighteen.

 

He smiled to himself. Tonight would be the night. He figured that now that he was older, Harrison would let him go. Surely he would agree that Barry was ready?

 

“Bartholomew!” Harrison called from outside. “Let down your hair!”

 

“Coming, Father!” Barry called, quickly covering the countdown with a portrait of him and Harrison. Cisco squeaked beside him and Barry shot him a stern look, lowering his voice, “I know, okay? I’ll ask him. I just...need to figure out the best way first.”

 

Cisco rolled his eyes and huffed, scuttling to rest on his shoulder and hide behind a curtain of Barry’s blond locks.

 

Barry swung his hair onto the hook above his window, letting it fall down to the ground below. Harrison looped Barry's hair and stepped onto it, holding on tight as Barry pulled him up. 

 

“Hello, Father!” Barry greeted, helping him through the window, a little out of breath.

 

Harrison’s smile was always reserved, much more restrained than Barry’s own, which often stretched across his face and lit up his eyes. Harrison’s never touched his eyes. “Good evening.” He took a sniff of the air. “Is that dinner I smell?”

 

“It is!” Barry confirmed, guiding him toward a chair and quickly setting the table with one of his homemade candles and setting the dish of italian sausage tortellini in front of him. He poured Harrison a glass of wine and placed the freshly baked pumpkin pie in the center of the table for dessert. Barry took a seat across from him with his own plate and a glass of the apple juice he’d made that afternoon.

 

Barry heard Cisco squeak next to his ear and cleared his throat, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger. “So…”

 

“This is delicious,” Harrison commented after taking a bite. He took another and paused, moving it around his tongue. “Is that garlic I taste?”

 

“It is,” Barry confirmed, fiddling with his fork. “But--”

 

Harrison chased the food with wine and hummed, swirling the dark liquid around his glass. “There’s nothing better than pasta and a nice glass of wine.” He eyed Barry before taking another sip. “It’s something I’m sure you’ll appreciate one day.”

 

“Mhmm,” Barry nodded. “I’m sure I will. Father--”

 

“Barry, why aren’t you eating?” Harrison frowned. “Are you not hungry?”

 

Barry pursed his lips, glancing down at his food. He sighed, picking up his fork and shoveling a few bites into his mouth.

 

“Barry,” Harrison sighed. “Slow down, you’re going to choke.”

 

Barry chewed more slowly. “I was sorta wondering--”

 

“Swallow before you speak,” Harrison chastised, and Barry did as told, chewing and swallowing before taking a drink of his apple juice.

 

Once his mouth was free, he set down his fork and folded his hands on the table, taking a deep breath. “Father--”

 

“Bartholomew,” Harrison sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m tired. Could you please set our place by the fire?”

 

Barry bit the inside of his lip, but nodded stiffly, rushing to fluff the pillow in the living chair and setting another pillow on the floor. He loaded wood into the fireplace and lit a match, tossing it in to start the fire. He rushed to the bathroom and retrieved a brush, running back out and grabbing Harrison’s hand on his way back to the fire. He guided Harrison into the chair and sat on the pillow, handing him the brush and a thicket of his hair.

 

Barry began to sing, slowly at first. After a moment, however, his mind began to stray to the lights that would float into the sky in just a few days. All he wanted was to ask if he could see them in person. He’d come right back home and stay in the tower for the rest of his life afterwards if that's what it took. All he wanted was to see the lights. 

 

He began to sing faster.

 

His hair quickly began to glow and light burst into the air around Harrison before he was ready.

 

“Bartholomew!”

 

“Father!” Barry burst, turning around and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Can I please go see the lights?”

 

Harrison frowned, setting the brush aside and getting to his feet to retrieve his wine. “We’ve discussed this before.”

 

“Yes, I know! The world is a terrible, dangerous place,” Barry began, following him. “But you go out all the time and you’re always fine!”

 

Harrison turned to him sharply. “That’s because I fight like hell to make it back to you every day.” Harrison noticed the astonished look on Barry’s face and sighed, cupping the boy’s cheek in his hand. “I risk my life every day so I can provide for you, Bartholomew. If I had the choice, I’d never leave this tower. I do everything for you so you  don’t have to put your life at risk.”

 

Barry nodded in understanding, glancing toward the floor. “My eighteenth birthday is coming up…”

 

Harrison grit his teeth, grabbing his wine and removing his hand from Barry's face. “If you ask me about those dreaded lights  _ one more time _ \--”

 

Barry shook his head. “I was just going to say that I’d really like some more of those eggshell paints you got me a while back.”

 

The tension in Harrison’s shoulders loosened and he turned to Barry, eyes searching. “Bartholomew, that’s a two-day journey.”

 

Barry nodded. “I know...but I just thought...since I can’t see the lights, at least I can paint them?”

 

Harrison frowned. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

 

Barry smiled. “Of course. You taught me how to take care of myself, remember?”

 

A sad smile tugged at Harrison’s lips before he forced it into something more cheerful. He squeezed Barry’s shoulder. “Okay. I’ll get you the paints. Prepare me a basket for the journey?”

 

Barry nodded. “Yes, Father.”

 

❀❀❀

 

“You never saw the lanterns?” Michael asks sadly.

 

Barry smiles, chuckling to himself. “I did, actually.” He glances at Len. “You wanna take over?”

 

Len opens his mouth to reply, but stops when the door opens and the palace herald, Wally West, enters with a low bow.

 

“I apologize for interrupting, but you’re wanted in the throne room,” Wally explains.

 

“For what reason?” Len questions, already getting to his feet.

 

Wally’s eyes fall to Michael and he shakes his head. “It’s best not to discuss here.”

 

Barry clears his throat and nods. “Of course. Wally, will you bring Michael to his room, please?”

 

“But daddy!” Michael pouts, disappointed that the story got cut short again.

 

Barry offers an apologetic smile, kneeling down and squeezing Michael’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but your papa and I need to go take care of a few things. I promise we’ll continue this story later, okay?”

 

“And, if you’re good, maybe we’ll have the kitchen staff prepare something special for dessert tonight,” Len entices with a raised eyebrow.

 

Michael perks up. “Ice cream sundaes?!”

 

“Maybe,” Len shrugs, teasing smile on his lips. “I guess you’ll just have to be good to find out.”

 

Michael nods seriously, jumping to his feet. “Okay! Bring me to my room, uncle Wally!”

 

Wally grins and offers him his hand, leading him out of the room.

 

Len and Barry follow them out, staring after them before heading in the opposite direction.

 

“When do you think Michael will start asking questions about how Wally is his uncle?” Barry questions, a little worried.

 

Len shrugs, opening the throne room door for his husband. “I’m sure the thought’s already crossed his mind. With the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks while we’re in the middle of our story.”

 

“Oh god,” Barry grimaces. “What did we start?”

 

Len smirks and shakes his head, wondering the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this feels so short, lovelies! I was going to start the next part with Len coming to the tower in this chapter, but I went a bit further into detail about Len's past instead, so I made it its own chapter. Honestly, I was going to finish chapter 3 (aka the chapter that's killing me) before I posted this, but I've been sick for the past week or two and haven't had a day off, so I've been pretty exhausted. I'll try to finish the next chapter soon though! It's...75% done? Probably? It doesn't want to end, so we'll see. xD
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented, left kudos, shared, subscribed, bookmarked, etc. You guys are amazing and constantly reminding me of how wonderful this fandom is! <3 :*


	3. Flynn Rider - AKA Leonard Snart

Michael is in the middle of playing with Iris in his playroom when Barry and Len come to retrieve him for dinner.

 

The boy’s eyes light up when he sees them and he jumps to his feet, wrapping his arms around their legs. “Daddy! Papa!”

 

Len chuckles, messing with his hair. “You just saw us this morning.”

 

“That was _hours_ ago!” Michael says exasperatedly.

 

Barry laughs, smiling at Iris. “Did he behave okay?”

 

Iris crosses her arms over her chest and nods, smiling fondly. “As always. Although, he couldn’t stop talking about the story you’re telling him.”

 

Barry flushes and clears his throat, glancing sideways at Len. “Ah, yeah, well, Len’s to blame for that one.”

 

Len shrugs. “Hey, our son asked how we met. What’d you want me to do, lie?”

 

“Well, no, I just--” Barry fumbles, but Iris saves him from embarrassing himself.

 

“I just find it interesting that you’re telling your son all these stories when I haven’t even heard them all myself,” Iris lifts her eyebrows, looking at Barry accusingly.

 

Barry scratches at the back of his neck. “I -- well -- I’ll tell you eventually?”

 

“Uh huh,” Iris smiles knowingly. “Sure you will.”

 

“Michael, why don’t you say goodnight to Iris? Your father and I have a surprise for you,” Len says.

 

“A _surprise_?!” Michael runs and falls into Iris’s arms as she stoops down for a hug, almost knocking her over.

 

She laughs, returning his bearhug. “You’re getting pretty strong, aren’t you, Mikey?”

 

“Just like my daddy and papa!” Michael says proudly.

 

Iris ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek, getting to her feet and eyeing the two men near the door. “I guess they are kinda strong, huh?”

 

Barry rolls his eyes, entirely aware of her thought process. He huffs at her and lifts Michael into his arms. “I know I’m not as strong as Eddie, but I _do_ have some muscle, y’know.”

 

Iris laughs. “You just keep telling yourself that.” She kisses Barry and Leonard on the cheek before squeezing out by them. “Goodnight, boys! Enjoy your story, Michael!”

 

Michael grins. “Goodnight, Iris!”

 

Barry touches his forehead to Michael’s as they walk in the direction of Michael’s room. “Did you have fun with Iris today, son?”

 

“Yeah!” he says excitedly. “She read to me and helped me draw a lion and we finger painted and danced and sang and--”

 

“Wow,” Barry laughs. “Sounds like you had a fun day.”

 

“Yup!” Michael chirps, fiddling with his father’s shirt collar. “We did so many things, daddy! Just like you in your tower!”

 

Barry smiles. “Yeah, I guess you did do everything I did in my tower, huh?”

 

“Mmhm!” Michael hums proudly. “I told her I wanna be just like you, daddy!”

 

Barry exchanges a look with Len, who’s smiling along. “You did, huh?”

 

“Yeah!” he nods. “Then maybe -- then maybe I’ll find someone just like you found papa!”

 

Barry looks at him, torn between finding his son’s explanation adorable and finding it a little sad that his idea of love and romance is based on their story. There are clearly some things Michael doesn’t understand about what happened to them, but he’s still too young to be told all the details. Maybe someday when he’s older, Barry thinks, they’ll tell him the story again and he’ll understand better. Now, all he knows is that some sad things happened, but everything turned out happily in the end.

 

The happy ending is true, as far as Michael knows, and Barry can agree that things did go well...but that’s the thing about fairy tales...they tend to end just as things have gotten good. Rarely do they continue and show what happens next. Len and Barry’s story...well, it’s far from over.

 

Bringing Michael into his room, Len closes the door behind them and joins his husband and son at the table in the corner, where pizza has been set out for them.

 

“We thought we could eat in your room tonight,” Barry explains, setting him down.

 

Michael runs to the table. “Pizza!”

 

Len doles out the slices and pours soda for each of them before taking a seat. “Now, I know the next part of our story is supposed to be about me finding your father, but there are some things you need to know before we get to that.”

 

Michael nods, sitting up straighter and scooting forward, looking very serious.

 

Len eyes him, fighting off a smile. He hates to say it, but he sees so much of Barry in him, despite how insistent everyone is about him being Len’s child. Len clears his throat. “First of all, you have to understand that I was a very different man when I met your father. I had a very...different upbringing.”

 

Michael nods again, eyebrows furrowed as he begins to nibble at his pizza, settling back in his chair for a long story.

 

❀❀❀

 

When Len was six his father brought home a baby girl.

 

“Is it yours?” Len’s mother, Adaline, asked accusingly. Flour coated her arms up to her elbows and she leaned onto the countertop, tired after a long day of standing and cleaning.

 

“She is now,” Lewis laughed, pushing the baby into the woman’s arms.

 

The baby wailed and Adaline cradled her, rocking from side to side and gently shushing her. Adaline glared at Lewis. “You can’t just expect me to take someone’s child!”

 

Lewis didn’t appear fazed by her outburst, merely opening the ice box to grab a pitcher of beer he’d stashed there after his last raid. He took a swig and turned a bored gaze on his wife. “The mother’s dead.”

 

Adaline stared at him, fear washing over her like a sheet of cold rain. She glanced at Len sitting at the table, gutting a fish for dinner, and lowered her voice to whisper harshly, “You killed the mother?”

 

Lewis rolled his eyes and glanced at his son. “Why the hell is my son gutting a fish?”

 

“He’s helping me with dinner,” Adaline snapped.

 

Lewis grabbed a hold of Len’s arm, hauling him out of the chair. “That ain’t his job.”

 

“I offered to help,” Len said quietly.

 

“Kitchen work is a woman’s job,” Lewis growled. “You should be outside, sharpening my tools and tending to the land.”

 

“I’m only one person, Lewis,” Adaline said angrily. “You can’t expect me to do the washing and cooking for eight men on my own.”

 

“That’s why I got you help,” Lewis stated simply, as if the child was the answer to all of her problems.

 

“It's a baby!”

 

“That you’ll raise to help you around the house,” Lewis argued.

 

“ _Raise_ her?” she laughed humorlessly. “I can’t raise her, do the washing, and cook all on my own! I'm not a _maid_.”

 

Lewis shrugged, pushing his son aside and setting down his beer to pick up the knife on the table. “In that case, we could always put the little runt out of its misery.”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Adaline hissed, holding the girl protectively out of his reach.

 

Lewis smirked. He tossed the knife aside and grabbed the back of Len’s neck, guiding him toward the door. “Come on, son. I’m gonna teach you a few things.”

 

“But--” Len began to protest, but Lewis’s hard glare shut him up.

 

“Lewis, I swear, if you teach that boy--”

 

Lewis turned on her. “Don’t tell me what to teach my _son_ , Ad. You focus on raising that girl of yours and leave Leonard’s raisin’ to me, got it?”

 

Adaline glared, but didn’t dare push the subject.

 

“Shut that child up!” Lewis commanded, shoving Len out the door. “And gut the damn fish!”

 

Len peered back at his mother with a frown, but she shook her head and forced a smile that Len was sure disappeared as soon as the door was between them. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met. Not only was she physically strong, she was headstrong. She gave just as good as she got, especially when it came to Lewis. She put up with so much more than she deserved and, despite how obviously it was wearing on her, she didn’t let it break her. Len figured anyone else would have run by then, would have packed up their things and fled, but she stayed. Len knew that if it wasn’t for him, she _would_ have left a long time ago. But her fear about what would happen to him if she left kept her there.

 

Len knew she was afraid, not just of his father, but of him too. He saw it in her eyes every time she looked at him. She was afraid of what he’d grow into. Every day he was looking more and more like his father and less like his mother. His eyes were blue, like his mother’s, and his black hair curled at the ends when it got long. Other than that, though, he looked like his father. His skin, unlike his mother’s, was white; his fingers were too long; and his shoulders were broad. He knew his mother could see Lewis in him; Len could see the man in himself whenever he looked at his reflection. Despite the physical similarities, however, Len was not his father.

 

Len hated everything about his father -- everything he did and everything he stood for. He was a liar, a thief, and a killer. He didn’t care who he hurt as long as he was getting something out of the deal -- as long as he was getting what he wanted.

 

On more than one occasion his unkind hands touched Len’s mother and each time Len got angier. He wanted to intervene, to redirect his father’s attention from his mom and, later, his baby sister. There were quite a few times he did just that; he took blame for things left undone, saying he’d distracted them or that he’d promised to do something and ended up not doing it. His mother hated when he took the blame for them and got the brunt of his father’s anger, but he vowed to protect them. They were his family and family was supposed to stick together. In his opinion, that’s what you did when you loved someone.

 

But he didn’t love his dad and he’d never go out of his way to protect him (although he did provide a reluctant alibi a few times). In fact, there were times when he couldn’t help plotting the ways he’d kill Lewis. Maybe he’d accidentally throw an ax his way instead of at an enemy, maybe he’d misaim an arrow and hit his dad in the heart. Or maybe he’d just pay someone else to do it for him.

 

It never came to that.

 

When Len was sixteen -- ten years after the baby had been brought to them -- a man in a dark cloak came in the middle of the night. No one heard him at first, silent as he was, but when Adaline was roused from her sleep by a pained howl from her husband, she’d screamed loud enough to wake the children, who’d rushed to her aid.

 

The attacker’s face had been hidden by the shadows, but Len saw the man’s bright blue eyes from underneath his cloak.

 

When Len realized what happened, he’d forced his sister from the room and went to his mother’s side. Neither of them touched his father, holding onto one another and wondering if they should be grateful or sad.

 

When they had a funeral a few days later, Len and his father’s crew were the only ones to attend. Len only stayed long enough to be sure the old man was actually dead before returning home to his mother and sister, where they’d begin a new life together, a life without the dark presence of Lewis Snart.

 

❀❀❀

 

Michael gasps in realization. “Lewis _Snart_?”

 

Len breathes in slowly and nods, watching his son’s emotions play out on his face. First surprise, then anger, then confusion. Len waits for his shame to come, for his disappointment at being from the same family as someone as horrible as Lewis Snart. To be the grandchild of Lewis Snart.

 

His disappointment never comes.

 

“Papa?” Michael starts, pushing away his soda.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did you…” He fiddles with his hands, twisting his fingers together. “...ever kill anyone?”

 

“No,” Len answers quickly and honestly. He beckons for Michael to get into his lap and wraps his arms around him. “I’ve done a lot of things, Michael, but I have never killed anyone.”

 

Michael takes in his words and nods, laying his head against his father's chest. He’s still not looking him in the eyes though and, as much as Len understands, it hurts a little. “Papa?”

 

“Yes, Michael?”

 

“What _have_ you done?” Michael questions, finally looking up at him with curious eyes.

 

The disappointment isn’t there yet, Len notices, but he can see that one wrong word could change that. He sighs. He’d never told Michael this part of the story before, had never actually admitted to Lewis Snart being his father. How he’d managed to keep such an integral part of his life from his son, he’d never know.

 

When his father died, Len took over as head of the household, although he always felt undeserving of the title. Suddenly he’d gone from his father’s shadow and scapegoat to being responsible for his family. He didn't know what to do; he hadn't exactly had the best role model.

 

He did manage to learn one thing as a kid though -- how to survive.

 

Even under the toughest circumstances he knew how to provide for his family, regardless of the morals (or lack thereof) involved.

 

“Sometimes,” Len explains. “You just have to do what you have to do to survive.”

 

Barry nods. “Your Papa and I have to make those hard decisions every day as kings.”

 

“But it's not only our family we have to think about, it's the kingdom and the people in it,” Len adds.

 

Michael seems to think that one over. “Like Grandpa Henry when he chose not the help Harrison?”

 

“Exactly,” Len agrees.

 

“But Papa, if you never killed anyone, what did you do?” Michael questions.

 

Len purses his lips. “I stole, I lied, I ran from punishment.”

 

Michael nods, glancing up at him shyly. “Is that how you met daddy?”

 

“Yes,” Len answers, sharing a smile with his husband. “And I haven't stolen anything since.”

 

❀❀❀

 

It all started with a job, a simple heist with his little sister and crime partner. The job was perfectly planned, down to the last minute. They’d scale the walls and travel across the rooftops, out of sight and away from guards. Then they’d lower one of them in through the roof, they’d steal the goods, and get out without a hitch.

 

Unfortunately, not everything always goes according to plan.

 

“I want a castle,” his sister sighed, staring out across the kingdom.

 

Len snorted, getting the ropes ready. “You can buy your own castle once we’ve finished the job, Lisa.”

 

Lisa smirked and accepted the proffered rope, tying it around her waist. “What would mom say?”

 

Len rolled his eyes and shook his head. “She’d kill me for getting you involved in this.”

 

“I meant about the castle, dweeb,” she laughed, but Len’s impatient partner interrupted them.

 

“Can we please get this done and over with? I got a ‘nother appointment waitin’ for me.”

 

“Chill, Mick,” Len sighed, handing him some rope. “We’ll be done soon.”

 

Mick grumbled, but made no further comment as he helped Len lower Lisa down through the roof. Lisa tugged at the rope when she was low enough and eyed the guards in front of the pedestal, all facing the opposite direction. She withheld a laugh and grabbed the crystal tiara, shoving it into her shoulder bag, feeling as if this whole thing was far too easy.

 

She took a moment to review the scene. The guards were all facing the door, spears in hand and swords attached to their belts. Small pistols were attached to their waists by holsters and her attention was immediately drawn to them. The guns were standard issue for palace security, but nearly impossible to get ahold of on the outside. If she could only get her hands on one, her and her brother would have less reason to fear for their lives on a daily basis. The kingdom wasn’t too fond of them, after all, even before they started their own lives of crime. Being related to Lewis Snart hadn't exactly given them a good reputation.

 

“Intruder!”

 

Lisa startled out of her thoughts and tried to react quickly, tugging at the rope to signal Len and Mick. The guards had their guns out almost immediately, however, and a few charged at her, knives and spears at the ready.

 

Knowing she wouldn’t make it, Lisa took the tiara out of her bag and glanced up at her brother, who was trying like hell to get her out of there.

 

“Pull, Mick!” Len commanded, voice tight.

 

“ _You pull_ ,” Mick growled, shifting all of his weight backwards.

 

“Lenny, catch!” Lisa yelled from below, and a few moments later the tiara was tossed up through the hole in the ceiling.

 

He fumbled with the rope to catch it, Lisa falling a few more inches and Mick letting out an annoyed grunt. Len put the tiara in his satchel and returned to the rope.

 

It was too late though. The guards had already gotten to Lisa and were cutting her free. Mick and Len dropped the rope and peered down at her. Len felt his chest tighten.

 

Lisa shook her head, mouthing the word, “ _Go_.”

 

Like hell he would. He couldn’t leave without her. _He wouldn’t_.

 

But the alarms were already sounding and guards were scaling the side of the building to get to them. They needed to go, _now_. He swore under his breath and hugged his satchel tightly to his side, making a run for it. If nothing else, at least he could escape with Mick and the crown. After things cooled down, he’d find his sister and get her the hell out of there. At the moment, he couldn’t do anything without getting caught himself.

 

He _would_ get her out though. He had to.

 

Len made an effort to go back for Lisa that evening, but it was too soon. Palace guards were everywhere and the king’s men were out searching for him. It took him all he could just to get back to the castle.

 

“Could always give it a few days,” Mick suggested as the two of them settled into their room at a rundown inn for the night. They were both highly aware of the knights patrolling the kingdom and tearing places apart, but the innkeeper conveniently owed Len a favor, so at least they’d be safe for the night.

 

Len considered Mick’s suggestion. The option didn’t sit right with him. Who knew what would happen to Lisa in a few days time? The punishment for theft was generally imprisonment, but a priceless crown had been taken and Lisa had helped him get away with it. Len could only imagine what they’d do to her for a bit of information, especially about Len. The kingdom didn’t like the Snart name, after all.

 

“I don't like it,” Len replied, staring at the flickering candle on his bedside table. The light danced along the wall, casting shadows along the wooden panels. He didn’t like it at all. It shouldn’t have been this way. All they had to do was lower her in, she’d grab the tiara, and they’d pull her back up. It should have been simple. Except something had gone wrong. Lisa had taken too long, had pushed her luck.

 

He didn’t know what had been going through her mind, but he was regretting letting her be the one they’d lowered. She’d been the lightest though and the most practical option. Except now she was in a cell in the castle dungeons and Len had to find a way to get her out.

 

He needed insight. He needed to know the layout of the building, the inner-workings of the staff and the guards. How often the prisoners were questioned and if there were any windows between the guards’ shifts.

 

He wracked his brain for any contacts that might know the castle well enough. Only a few came to mind, but none were that easily accessible, especially with the wanted posters they were hanging around the kingdom.

 

Len knew he’d have to be smart about this.

 

❀❀❀

 

“What are contacts?” Michael questions, tilting his head as he picks a few pepperonis off his pizza.

 

Len considers the question, debates how to best answer it. “Acquaintances that can provide information.”

 

Barry quickly jumps in, “Your papa wasn’t a bad man, Michael, but he did some bad things growing up. He got to know a lot of other people that also did bad things.”

 

“Some who _were_ bad men,” Len adds, gaze going far off for a moment. He quickly snaps out of it, however, when Michael yawns. He smiles. “Tired, son?”

 

Michael shakes his head and rubs at his eyes. “No.”

 

Len chuckles, getting to his feet and gathering the dirty dishes. “We can continue our story tomorrow.”

 

“But papaaaa,” Michael whines, slumping his shoulders. “I wanna hear the whole story _now_.”

 

“It’s a long story,” Len laughs.

 

Barry follows Len’s lead and gets to his feet. He gathers their son in his arms and drops him into bed, retrieving a set of pajamas from his dresser. “We could never tell it in one sitting.”

 

Michael sighs and lifts his arms, allowing himself to be changed. “But I’m not tired.”

 

As if to disprove the point, he yawns again, and Barry laughs. He helps Michael into bed and tucks him in, kissing him on the forehead. “You might not be, but we are.”

 

Len nods, kissing his son. “Very.”

 

Michael crosses his arms and pouts.

 

“Tomorrow,” Barry promises, tickling underneath Michael’s chin until he’s squealing with laughter.

 

“Maybe we'll go to our special place tomorrow,” Len suggests, always the one to make promises of spoiling their son.

 

Michael grins. “The pond? And can we have those ice cream sundaes tomorrow too?”

 

They should have known he wouldn’t forget. Len laughs. “Sure, after lunch tomorrow.”

 

“Yay!” Michael cheers, opening his arms for a hug that the two men quickly deliver.

 

Len squeezes the two of them in his arms and closes his eyes, taking in the moment. His life has changed so much since he was a kid. He has a family. A home. A life he’s proud of.

 

He never thought it was possible.

 

“Sweet dreams, son,” Len says quietly, pressing another kiss to his head.

 

“‘Night, Papa. ‘Night, Daddy,” Michael murmurs, and the lights are blown out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gotten carried away with this chapter, but it's one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, giving kudos, subscribing, or anything you may have done. I adore you all <333
> 
> Also, a special shout out to [Caroline](http://captainchilly.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr for editing [this picture of Grant with long, rapunzel hair](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com/post/158722348366/heard-you-were-trying-to-edit-grant-with-rapunzel). I'm amazed<3


	4. Rapunzel's Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Len meet for the first time.

The next morning, Barry and Len let Michael eat breakfast in his bedroom while they attend to business. There’s been rumors of a war between neighboring kingdoms, Keystone and Starling, and the last thing they want is to be caught off guard or stuck in the middle. They spend the morning and well into the afternoon discussing treaty plans and ally agreements with their advisors, considering their options and trying to figure out what’s best for the kingdom.

 

By the time they’re finished, it’s well after two in the afternoon and Michael practically pounces on them when they enter the playroom.

 

“Storytime?!” he yells, wrapping his arms around Len’s legs.

 

Len stares down at him with an amused grin. He’s tired and his mind is still reeling from all the pros and cons of each possible agreement, but he will always make time for his son. He lifts Michael into his arms. “Of course, you didn’t think we forgot, did you?”

 

Honestly, how  _ could _ they forget? It’s all Michael talks about anymore.

 

“More of the story I’ve never heard, huh?” Iris questions, picking up their crafts.

 

Barry joins her and begins putting toys in their respective bins. “I promise I’ll tell you one day.”

 

“Mmhm,” Iris hums, eyeing him doubtfully. “I think the only way I’ll ever hear this story is if I sit in with you guys.” She hands Barry a painting. “Or through Michael’s retelling.”

 

Barry looks over the painting that’s clearly of him with long, blond hair that’s piled up to the sky. It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s not too far off and the face looks eerily similar to Barry’s. He looks up at Michael with a smile. “You painted this?”

 

Michael nods proudly. “I made it for you.”

 

"Wow, thank you."

 

Len holds out a hand for the painting and inspects it himself, poking Michael in the ribs. “Well, look at this! We have a little artist on our hands.”

 

Barry remembers all those years of painting on his walls and wonders if that’s where Michael’s interest came from. He feels an elbow in his side and glances at iris.

 

She smiles. “You’re doing really good with him.”

 

He returns her smile. “So are you.”

 

She huffs. “I just watch him during the day, you’re the one raising him.” She looks at Michael and Leonard, gaze warm. “Him and Leonard…”

 

He follows her gaze and nods. “They’re really amazing.”

 

“Never thought the famous Captain Cold could be so warm,” Iris comments lightly.

 

Barry wraps an arm around her shoulders. He knows they have a complicated family and that it’s not as perfect as Michael seems to think it is, but it’s still good. There’s still more love than any of them know what to do with and that makes Barry happy.

 

“Ready for our afternoon walk?” Len asks, question directed at Michael, but gaze on Barry.

 

“Yes!!!” Michael cheers.

 

Barry nods and kisses Iris on the cheek. “Thanks again for watching him.”

 

“Of course,” Iris smiles, shoving him away. “Go tell him the story before he spontaneously combusts.”

 

Barry laughs, not putting it past him.

 

❀❀❀

 

To his credit, Len did take some time to think over his plan before rushing into action to save Lisa. He waited approximately twenty-seven hours and thirty-six minutes. During that time, he observed the king’s men, making note of their routines and search tactics. There wasn’t much to them, really. They seemed to search the land in sections, with some men coming and going to patrol the most obvious routes to the castle. They knew he’d be back for his sister.

 

Len hated that they knew his weakness. It was the one thing that could draw him out. It was the one thing that could cloud his judgment.

 

And cloud his judgment it did.

 

He was getting impatient, as was his fire-compelled friend who claimed he had places to be. Len assumed he was just getting antsy because he hadn’t lit anything on fire in over twenty-four hours. Regardless, he needed to get Lisa out of there. Fast.

 

One evening, after sending word to one of his contacts, Len set out to meet him on the outskirts of the land. He parted ways with Mick along the way with a promise of getting his share of the profit to him as soon as he cleaned up the mess they’d made. Mick had simply grunted and set out through the woods, matches already in hand.

 

Len had assumed the meeting place would be safe, being far enough away from the castle and close enough to neighboring lands. He didn’t count on darting in and out of bushes and trees the entire way in an attempt not to be seen. The search for him stretched across the land, to the very edges of the kingdom, making the meeting much more difficult. He’d underestimated the king’s determination to retrieve his precious crown. 

 

At the edge of the river, Len ducked beneath a tree, settling among the leaves and bushes to keep watch. When he heard the voices, he sank further under cover, careful not to make much noise. The horse’s hooves stopped just to the right of him and Len breathed evenly, preparing to run if needed. Just as the horse’s nose came close to the bushes, he heard a branch break a few yards away and looked up in time to see the man he was supposed to be meeting run away.

 

The horse took off after him and Len took the opportunity to slip out from the bushes. He dove into the river, quickly swimming to the other side and taking off at a run, wet clothes only a slight hinderance. He heard hooves behind him and splashing before a man screamed. Len glanced behind him and grinned when he saw the knight in the river, his horse a few feet away, stamping its feet. As he was about to look away, he caught the horse’s eye and could have sworn it glared at him and nickered angrily. Shrugging it off, Len took the chance and ran.

 

His relief was short lived when more hooves thundered after him and he swore under his breath, ducking and dodging through trees in an attempt to shake them from his trail. When he rounded a corner and dove through a thicket of branches, spotting a tower, Len glanced over his shoulder and listened to the hooves getting closer.

 

Deciding it was his only option, Len ran toward the jagged brick and began to climb.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Daddy was inside, right?” Michael questions, throwing a rock across the pond and watching it sink with a  _ plop _ . He frowns, having intended for it to skip.

 

Len chuckles and hands him another rock, guiding his hand. “He was.”

 

Barry watches as the rock skids across the water three times before it sinks, clapping his hands. “Good one, Michael!”

 

Michael grins, but shrugs. “Papa did it, not me.”

 

“I bet you could do it on your own,” Len offers him another rock. “Go ahead and give it a try.”

 

Michael stares at the rock for a moment, looking unsure. He sighs and holds it the way his papa showed him. He squints at the water and holds the rock parallel to the surface, winding up his arm and tossing it as far as he could throw. He watches in delight as it skips twice and then sinks. He turns to his parents excitedly. “I did it!”

 

Barry grins and lifts him into his arms, spinning him around. “We knew you could!”

 

Len watches them with a fond smile. “Good job, son.”

 

“Thanks, Papa!” he reaches his arms toward Len, who takes him into his arms. Michael clings to him, squeezing his little arms around his neck. “I couldn’t have done it without your help!”

 

Len feels his heart melt a little at that and sighs happily, wrapping his arms around his son.

 

“And I couldn’t have gotten out of the tower without his help,” Barry comments, committing the image of Michael hugging Len to memory. Another memory to add to his collection of paintings, he thinks.

 

Len snorts at Barry’s comment, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but I didn’t really have a choice with that one.”

 

“What d’you mean?” Michael asks, blinking his eyes innocently and glancing between the two of them.

 

Barry merely shakes his head. 

 

Len laughs, turning his attention back to his son. “Let’s just say your dad wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

 

❀❀❀

 

Barry had been in the middle of washing dishes when he heard a noise in the den. He glanced at Cisco, double checking that it wasn’t him, before turning slowly toward the door. He reached blindly behind him and grabbed the first thing he found, which happened to be the frying pan he’d used to make lunch.

 

He knew Harrison wasn’t supposed to be home for another couple days and he’d never, in his eighteen years, had a visitor. So, when he heard a pair of boots hit the floor, his worst fears sprang to mind -- one of the men Harrison warned him about had finally come for him, someone had come for his magic hair, or someone had come to kill him. Maybe all three.

 

He shivered, feeling his heart seize in his chest, but breathed deeply to calm himself. He could do this. It was one intruder, right? Right. 

 

He refused to let himself wonder what he’d do if it was more than one.

 

Swallowing back his fear, Barry slowly crept through the short hallway to the den, peeking around the entryway. There, just inside the window, was a man with short, black hair and bright, blue eyes. His eyes searched the room calculatingly and when they moved in his direction, Barry gasped and hid behind the wall.

 

Cisco squeaked on the counter and Barry hushed him, eyes wide. Cisco rolled his eyes and gestured toward the door, pretending to hold and swing a pan.

 

Barry took a deep breath. 

 

“You’re right,” he whispered, hugging the pan to his chest. “I can do this.” He nodded with resolve, and Cisco jumped onto his shoulder, huddling closer to his neck for moral support.

 

Barry pursed his lips and swung around the corner, pan held out in front of him. “Who are you and what do you want?”

 

Len held up his hands on reflex, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the kid in front of him. He eyed the unnaturally long blond locks, the masculine set of his jaw, the purple pants and t-shirt that hung loosely from his body. There was something so very different about him -- more than just the hair.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Was it love at first sight?” Michael interjects, leaning back against Len’s chest and picking at the grass as they sit on the lawn.

 

Barry glances at Len, both of them smiling at what comes next.

 

“Not quite,” Len replies.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Answer me!” Barry demanded, taking a couple of deliberate steps toward the intruder.

 

Len furrowed his eyebrows, having missed the questions altogether. “Come again?”

 

Barry jumped and swung when the unfamiliar man made a sudden movement, hitting him on the forehead. He watched in a mixture of shock and fascination as the man fell forward, landing hard on the floor. Barry exchanged a look with Cisco and quickly got to work, pushing the man into a chair and tying him to it with his hair.

 

He grabbed a pot of water from the kitchen and made sure the man was held tightly to the chair before tossing the water on him, holding the pan out threateningly.

 

When Len came to, there was a pounding in his head and an ache in his back. It took him a minute to get his bearings, to figure out that he was sitting in a chair instead of standing on his feet and that there was something keeping him from falling over. He jerked in the chair, glancing down at the blond hair wrapped around him. He turned a glare on the kid sticking the pan in his face.

 

“What? You gonna hit me again?” he sneered in annoyance.

 

Barry raised the pan threateningly. “I want you to answer my questions.”

 

Len raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking to the pan.

 

Barry’s stance wavered slightly when the man’s gaze met his, realizing the man wasn’t afraid in the slightest. Harrison’s warnings resounded in his head and he took a step forward. “Tell me who you are.”

 

“That’s not a question, kid,” Len pointed out, unimpressed.

 

Barry scowled. “I’m not a kid! I’m eighteen.”

 

Len rolled his eyes with a snort, adjusting himself in the chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. The wood was rough against his back and he really didn't have time for this. “Look, kid--”

 

“I’m not a kid!” Barry insisted, shoving the pan in his face. “Stop calling me that.”

 

Len eyed the pan. “Not a kid. Right.” His gaze flicked to Barry’s. “Look, if you let me go, there’s something valuable I can give you.”

 

Barry lifted the satchel off the floor. “You mean this?”

 

Len narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. “Yes. That.” He breathed evenly through his nose. “I’m willing to trade it for my freedom.”

 

Barry opened the bag and took out the tiara, holding it up in the light and watching it sparkle. He furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?”

 

“A crown,” Len explained, tone clipped. “A highly valuable item.”

 

“So, it’s worth a lot?” he questioned, turning it around and inspecting it from all angles.

 

“Yes,” Len grumbled, wishing he was anywhere but where he was, explaining what  _ highly valuable _ meant to some kid with a pan and at least fifty feet of hair.

 

Barry pursed his lips thoughtfully, glancing at Cisco on his shoulder, who nodded eagerly.

 

Len caught the movement and furrowed his eyebrows because  _ of course _ the kid had a pet too.

 

Barry grinned, putting the tiara back in the bag. “I’m gonna let you keep it.”

 

Len lifted an eyebrow, waiting for the catch. “Are you?”

 

“Uh huh.” Barry put the satchel over his shoulder and let the pan dangle from his hand, not bothering to shove it in the man’s face anymore. “But you have to do something for me first.”

 

Ah, there it was. Len frowned. “Which is?”

 

Barry went to his wall and pulled at the curtain covering the painting at the very top, where he’d done a mediocre job of painting the floating lights with what little paint he had to choose from. “Tomorrow night, the floating lights will come--”

 

“You mean the lanterns,” Len corrected, not entirely comprehending.

 

“Is that what they are?” Barry questioned, eyes wide. He shook his head in astonishment. “That makes so much sense.” He looked at the older man, smiling excitedly. “Do you know what they’re for?”

 

Len shrugged. “Sure. The king and queen send them up every year for--”

 

“The king and queen?” the younger man gasped.

 

The older man frowned. “Yes, at the castle--”

 

“Castle,” Barry repeated, tapping his chin. “Is that where they are?”

 

Len was getting tired of these questions. “Yes. Look, what's this all about?”

 

“Take me to them,” Barry requested, although it sounded more like a demand as he turned to Len with a grin.

 

“Take you--” Len began, speaking slowly. “--to the lanterns? At the castle?”

 

“Mhmm!”

 

Len thought about that. The kid wanted Len to take him to see the lanterns back at the castle. Where there were guards and knights on the lookout for him, probably searching every nook and cranny of the land. Then again, he did need to make his way back to the castle anyway.

 

He eyed the bag at Barry’s side. “And you’ll let me keep the crown?”

 

Barry hid the satchel behind him, but nodded. “I’ll keep it safe here in the tower until after our trip.”

 

Len narrowed his eyes. “Safe?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Barry laughed. “You didn’t think I’d bring it with us so you could steal it from me before I saw the lights, did you?”

 

Huh, so maybe the kid wasn’t a complete idiot after all. Len sat up straighter. “Let me get this straight. I bring you to see the lanterns, we make it back here in one piece, and you give me back the crown?”

 

“Y’uh huh.”

 

“How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the deal?” Len questioned suspiciously.

 

Barry shrugged as if it was obvious. “I don’t lie.”

 

“Uh huh,” Len murmured, but he somehow didn’t find that surprising. The kid seemed too pure, too pure to even tell a lie. He sat back with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take you.”

 

“Great!” Barry chirped, holding up a finger before disappearing with the satchel clutched in his hands. He returned a moment later, hands free, and clapped his hands together. “Let’s go!”

 

“Go?” Len echoed. “Right now?”

 

“Yeah! It’ll take a day or so to get there, right?” Barry shrugged, starting to unwrap him. “Plus, no better time than the present!”

 

Len cleared his throat and flexed his wrists once he was free, eyes moving quickly around the room, taking stock of his surroundings.

 

“Don’t bother trying to find the crown,” Barry sighed, smiling triumphantly. “I hid it where no one can find it.”

 

Len highly doubted that, but didn’t bother arguing. What was the harm in letting the kid keep it here for the time being? It was better than getting having it on him. At least if he got caught he could use it as leverage, a bargaining chip of sorts. Maybe it would give Lisa some kind of chance.

 

He shrugged. “Alright. You ready to go?”

 

Barry played with his hair, looking unsure all of a sudden. He glanced toward the kitchen. “Should I pack food?”

 

Len lifted an eyebrow. “Food?”

 

“Yeah, like, snacks and stuff?”

 

Len shrugged. “If you want.”

 

Barry’s bright smile returned. “Okay!” He went to leave the room but stopped short, spinning back around. “What’s your name?”

 

Len eyed him carefully. “Flynn.”

 

Barry nodded, reaching out a hand. “I’m Bartholomew, but you can call me Barry!”

 

Len frowned at the proffered hand, gaze flicking back up to meet Barry’s. “Yeah, okay, kid.”

 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his hand, looking at him as if he was trying to figure out one of the puzzles scattered around the room. He’d have fun trying to figure out this one, Len thought.

 

Barry shook his head and returned to the kitchen, and Len felt himself grow a few gray hairs just at the idea of leading the kid around the kingdom.

 

❀❀❀

 

“Why did you call daddy a kid?”

 

Len glances at Barry, not lost to the various connections between him and their son. Both painters, both so full of curiosity and too many questions. He smiles, clutching Michael’s hand as they walk across the grass, back toward the castle. “Because your daddy is five years younger than I am.”

 

Michael scrunches his nose, looking up at him. “But that’s not a lot.”

 

“No,” Len agrees, tilting his head. “But there were a lot of differences between your dad and I back then.”

 

“Yeah,” Barry adds. “Your papa had seen a lot more of the world than I had.” Barry squints at Len a little. “Plus, he always thought of himself as an old man.”

 

Len snorts, but doesn’t argue.

 

“What happened next?” Michael asks, eager for more.

 

Len sighs, glancing up at the castle walls. “Sorry, son, I’m afraid storytime is over for now.”

 

“Not again,” Michael whines.

 

Barry chuckles. “Afraid so, kiddo. Your papa and I have some things to take care of, but Auntie Lisa is here with Marcus.”

 

Michael perks up at the mention of his cousin. “Marcus?”

 

“Yeah,” Barry nods toward the small playground adjacent to the garden. “Looks like he beat you to the slide.”

 

Michael breaks into a run, but pauses, glancing back at them. “Finish the story later?”

 

Len laughs. “Of course, son.”

 

Barry slips his hand into his husband’s, squeezing lightly. “Ready to go hear the news from Lisa and Mick?”

 

Len tenses and his smile slowly slips from his face. “No, but let’s go.”

  
Barry nods, gazing after Michael and making sure he makes it to Marcus and Wally before heading through the castle doors with his husband at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying writing this far too much, haha. I love writing Michael and the family dynamic, as well as the background story for how Len and Barry met. I'm so glad I started writing this story<3


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